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Poem by Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


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Dare you see a Soul at the White Heat?
Then crouch within the door —
Red — is the Fire’s common tint —
But when the vivid Ore
Has vanquished Flame’s conditions,
It quivers from the Forge
Without a color, but the light
Of unanointed Blaze.
Least Village has its Blacksmith
Whose Anvil’s even ring
Stands symbol for the finer Forge
That soundless tugs — within —
Refining these impatient Ores
With Hammer, and with Blaze
Until the Designated Light
Repudiate the Forge –



Emily Elizabeth Dickinson


Emily Elizabeth Dickinson's other poems:
  1. Love’s Baptism
  2. Resurrection
  3. Rouge Gagne
  4. The Heart Asks Pleasure First
  5. To Fight Aloud Is Very Brave


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